The Solution
by Revhead
Summary: Set after 9x14. Sam wakes up to find Dean gone. A month later, he receives an email with a video file attached. It's from his brother, and it explains the solution to their problem. In the end, it is all too simple. Warnings for main character death.


**The Solution**

Dean had been MIA for a month before the email came through on Sam's computer.

The morning after Mrs Tran had taken Kevin's ghost home with her, Sam had woken to an empty bunker. Dean was gone, the Impala was gone, and Dean's phone was left lying on the kitchen bench. There was no note to explain why he was leaving or where he was going, or if he would be coming back, and there had be no word from him since. Until now.

There was no subject or text in the body of the message, just a link to a video file.

When Sam clicked it, his brother's face filled the computer screen.

"_Hey Sammy."_

Dean looked terrible. Beneath streaks of sweat and dirt and blood, his skin was ghostly pale. His hair was dishevelled, his clothes were in tatters, and the bags under his eyes were so deep and black they might as well have been bruises. There was a slight tremble in his body; shivers of cold or sickness or bone-deep exhaustion, Sam couldn't tell which. Remaining upright appeared to be a battle Dean was losing as he sagged against a wall for support. Even so, his gaze was fixed determinedly on the camera.

"_Okay, so, I know you're probably pissed at me. But you opened this email, which I'm hoping means that you are willing to hear me out."_

Sam folded his arms, and waited.

"_I've been trying for a while now to think of what to say to you. I know I should tell you in person, or at least over the phone, but if you are watching this then it means I took the coward's way out. And even doing it this way is harder than I thought it would be. I guess… I've never really been good with words, or explaining how I feel. But here goes._

"_You said that something was broken between us. I wanted to believe that we were just going through a rough patch and that everything would be alright in the end, but I was kidding myself. Truth is, we've been broken for a long time."_

He was right. Sam didn't know where it had started exactly, but it wasn't with Gadreel and it wasn't with what had happened in that church. He could try to trace it back to Ruby, or to the night he had left for Stanford, but maybe their relationship had been doomed from the get go.

"_You know, I remember the day Mom told me that I was going to be a big brother. I was scared at first. I didn't know what being a big brother meant or if I would be any good at it. Mom said that I would look out for you, teach you things, probably fight with you more than anyone else, but always love you no matter what. She said I wouldn't be perfect, but that I didn't have to be, I only had to do the best I could. And I've tried."_

Sam knew he had. Maybe, if they had been given half a chance to grow up normal, Dean would have been able to settle into the role of big brother and kicked ass at it. Instead, Dean was forced to become Sam's surrogate mother, father, nursemaid, babysitter, teacher, chauffeur, drill sergeant and bodyguard all rolled into one, and there was just no way that could be healthy for their relationship in the long term. Dean's definition of what it meant to be brothers had been warped by the responsibilities placed on him from such a young age, to the point that he thought he had to be everything for Sam and didn't know how to be anything else.

"_But my best just hasn't seemed to cut it. You wanted to _die_, Sam. All I ever wanted was for you to be alive and safe and happy, but somewhere along the way you lost the will to live and I missed it. Turns out that, for all the times I saved your hide, I never actually saved _you_. I kept your heart beating, forced your soul to stay in your body, but I let you go through so much crap that dying seemed the better option. Your life has been hell, and I'm to blame for that._

"_I didn't understand, at first, why anyone would willingly choose death – least of all you, because you know better than anyone what is waiting on the other side. But I think I'm starting to. You want out. You've always wanted out. I was content with the way we grew up because I had Dad and you and that was enough for me, but you never wanted hunting to be your life. That's why you went to college, but I dragged you back into this mess, and then when you finally found a permanent escape I dragged you back again. It was your one shot for peace, an end to the blood and mayhem and fighting, and I stole it from you._

"_I still can't bring myself to be sorry. Like I said, letting you die just isn't in me. Maybe it is selfish, but I just can't. I tried living without you, Sam, for an entire year, and I couldn't do it. I was existing, not living, and as much as I loved Lisa and Ben they couldn't fill the gaping hole inside of me. It isn't that I am afraid of being alone. I need _you_, Sammy._

"_The Yellow-Eyed-Demon was right. You don't need me, not like I need you. When you ran away to Flagstaff, you loved every minute of your freedom, while I fell to pieces. Those two years you were at Stanford, you were fine. You were _happy_. I was just trying to make it through each day, trying to work out how to function without you, and I did alright as long as I had Dad but as soon as he went missing I couldn't take it anymore. That's why I came and got you. I was selfish. And when Jake killed you, I made the deal because having just one year to spend with my little brother before I spent an eternity in Hell was a better option than trying to live with you gone. But you're stronger than me. The year I was in Purgatory, you were able to move on. You found a girl, you settled down, you lived your life._

"_I don't know how to do that. I can't ever be okay without you, and that's why, if your life is ever in danger, I will always make the same choice to save you. I know that's not what you want, but protecting you is not just what I do, it's who I am and I can't change. I'm sorry._

"_This is our problem. And I finally know the solution._

"_You were the one who said it. Under the same circumstances, you would let me die."_

Strength failing him, Dean slid a little further down the wall. He struggled to pull himself upright.

"_So here we are. I worked out a way to give us both what we want. You want to be free, and I want you to live a long, happy life._

"_This is how it should have gone down in the first place. You used to see a light at the end of this tunnel and I want you to find it again. You don't need me for that, you need the war to end. I can't fix everything, but I sent Cas a message – he's going to go see Kevin, find out what the real Angel trials are, and board up Heaven while I…"_

Dean's legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed out of view. It took a minute for him to claw his way back up the wall.

"_Sorry," _he gasped._ "I thought I knew what to expect, but I didn't… don't know how you… of course, stronger than me, always knew… but, maybe, because I did all three so close together… better like this, though… no point drawing it out…"_

"Dean," Sam said. It was ridiculous to talk to a video, but he couldn't help it. And unconsciously he was leaning in closer, trying to reach through cyberspace to the man beyond.

As though Dean had heard him, the rambling cut off abruptly. With conscious effort, Dean drew himself up. _"Sorry. It's getting harder to think straight, so I better get this done. By the time you finish watching this, the nightmare will be nearly over. I'm completing the Demon trials-"_

"What? No!"

"_-to slam the gates on Hell. I don't know what will happen, exactly, but I'm thinking something along the lines of a planet-wide exorcism that will drag all those sons of bitches back into the pit where they belong, and then the door will be sealed behind them. If Cas gets Heaven back in order, that'll only leave the small-fry monsters like Wendigos and Shifters behind, which other hunters can deal with._

"_You can retire, Sammy. Leave hunting behind you. Go back to school, marry some hot chick, have kids, grow old. Be happy._

"_It's not the finality of death, Sam, but I can't bring myself to offer that to you. I hope this is a close second._

"_I mean, hey, you get to be rid of me at last. That can only be a good thing, right? No more clingy big brother holding you back._

"_I guess I don't have to tell you not to try to save me, huh?" _He tried for a smile. _"Good, that's good. You left me in Purgatory, so I know I can count on you to leave my spirit be. But just in case, I'm sending you this message now, when it is already too late for you to have a chance to stop me._

"_I guess… I didn't want you to prove that you wouldn't._

"_But, anyway, it doesn't matter. This is it, Dean Winchester's last hurrah. It's not quite going out with a gun in my hand, but I'm taking thousands of demons down with me and that's about as good an ending as I could hope for. My last chance to be a hero and save the world._

"_But I want you to know, Sammy, that I'm not doing this for the world. I'm doing it for you. Because we're family._

"_Those words aren't a cure all, you know, designed to paint over all the crap we've put each other through. They're the motivation for everything I have ever done. You said we shouldn't be brothers anymore, but like it or not, I'm your big brother and I always will be._

"_This is goodbye, Sam. And since I'll never have another chance to say it… I love you._

"_I know, I know, aren't I the one who hates chick flick moments? Sorry, dude, but it had to be said. Don't worry, I'm saving you the trouble of having to say it back. Not that I'm presuming you would. Just… never mind._

"_Actually, could you do one thing for me Sam? I know it's not fair of me to ask, and I'm not expecting weeks or months of weeping and wailing or anything, but could you, maybe… grieve for me? Just for a bit?_

"_If it's not too much trouble, I'd like a proper hunter's funeral pyre. You know where to find me._

"_Thanks Sam. And sorry for everything._

"_Have a good life, little brother."_

Dean's hand reached forward, and the camera angle swung wildly before the video cut off, revealing the abandoned church where Dean had talked Sam down from finishing the trials. Where Dean had confessed that there was nothing he would put in front of Sam. Where Sam had chosen life over death because Dean had given him a reason to. He hadn't wanted to die, after all, he had just been too weak to fight it. That's why he needed his brother, to save him when he wasn't willing to save himself, and to show him how to live again.

Dean loved him. And for all that Sam had accused him of being selfish – because all he wanted was not to be alone, which apparently was a crime now – his was the most selfless love a man could show.

Sam had thrown it back in his face.

And now Dean was going to kill himself.

Without hesitating long enough to even shut down the computer, Sam ran. Half a minute later he was screeching out of the bunker's garage in one of the vintage cars and breaking every road law in America as he raced across the country to reach his brother before it was too late. He could barely even see the road, too blinded by the tears he couldn't dash away from his eyes fast enough.

He saw the moment when black smoke erupted from a myriad of locations and filled the sky, blotting out the sun completely before vanishing as though it had never been, but he ignored it. He refused to acknowledge what it meant.

Hours later, he skidded to a stop next to the Impala where it was parked outside the church and sprinted inside.

"Dean!"

He saw the laptop first, and the video camera discarded next to it. Then he saw the empty syringes, and the vacant chair with severed ropes draped over the arms. The demon was long gone.

He didn't see Dean.

In a moment of sheer relief and unbridled elation, Sam let himself believe Dean was okay. The demon must have escaped, he reasoned, so Dean couldn't finish the trial. He wasn't too late.

But then his brain caught up to him and he realised what he had seen but not registered in his haste to enter the church.

Filled with dread, Sam returned to the cars. He had pulled up on the Impala's passenger side.

The door on the driver's side was open.

Slowly, he circled around the bonnet, not wanting to look but unable to tear his eyes away.

He found his brother.

Dean was sprawled awkwardly with his arm tangled in the steering wheel, his head propped up on the leather seat and his legs dangling in the dirt, as though he had tried to make it back to his rightful place behind the wheel of his Baby but had collapsed halfway.

The position looked desperately uncomfortable, but Dean hadn't shifted to change it.

In fact, in all the time that Sam had been staring, Dean hadn't moved at all.

His chest hadn't even moved in the rhythmic rise and fall of breathing.

"Dean," Sam tried to say, but no sound escaped his throat. "Dean." It came out mangled, choked.

The world around him was drowning.

He dropped to his knees beside his brother, gently, gently untangling him to lay him out on the ground. Dean's head lolled.

Sam checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

"No. _No._ Dean… Dean please…"

It was a joke. A practical joke. His brother, the prankster, winding him up. He wasn't – he couldn't be-

"Dean!" Sam shook his shoulders, furious. "_No,_ dammit, don't do this to me. Dean-"

Sam had promised to stop the drama and fighting, and then he had walked away. He had slammed the door. He hadn't even been willing to try. And the next morning, Dean had been gone. The last Dean had seen of his brother was his turned back, cold and angry and unforgiving.

Dean thought Sam didn't want him around. Dean thought Sam didn't want them to be brothers. Dean thought Sam hated him. Dean thought Sam would be glad to see him dead. Dean thought Sam wouldn't mourn for him. Dean thought that, when he laid his heart bare, Sam wouldn't say it back.

"Dean, how could you think-?" But he knew how. Dean had taken him at his word. The things he had said…

"How could I have let you leave like that? Why didn't I come looking for you sooner?" He had been grateful for the space to breathe, the solitude, the chance to spend some time apart and work things through separately so that distance could give them both perspective. He had never imagined that Dean would take up this suicide mission, but he should have known. The dead look in Dean's eyes should have given it away.

"I killed you," he realised. "Oh god, I killed you months ago, and you just finished the job. But I do, Dean, I do, and I know it is too late to say it, but Dean…"

He broke, keeling forward, tears splashing on his brother's face. "I love you, too," he whispered. "And I'm sorry."

ooOOoo

The End


End file.
